Matronly Duties (3 page)

“Thank you for your hospitality.”

“You’re welcome,” Rhonda replies. “Let me introduce you to everyone.” I nod and smile. “At the head of the table, that handsome gentleman, is my husband, Anthony.”

“Welcome,” Anthony says with a tip of his head.

“To his left, of course, is Howard. He’s our eldest at twenty-three.”

I notice he is again staring at me. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down my spine. I find it hard to believe that he is younger than I am.

“Next to him is our oldest girl, Margaret, though everyone calls her Margie. She’s nineteen. To her left is Timothy, or Tim for short. He’s ten. These two to my left and right are the twins, Bradley and Jean. They will be thirteen next month. Last, but not least, that little bundle of joy to your right is Claire. She’s six.”

Everyone but Howard give me a wave and a quick, “Hi.”

Looking around the table, I’m confused. They all seem to have similar facial features, which make me think they are related, but they can’t be. The law prohibits women from having more than one child with the same man, and more than two overall. They can’t possibly all be her children.

Before I can even ask my question, Rhonda answers it. “Yes, all the children are mine and Anthony’s.”

“But . . . how?”

“Do they not teach the ways of making love in schools anymore?”

Making love?
I glance back and forth between Anthony and Rhonda.
They can’t be saying what I think they are.

“Yes, Bethanie. All of our children, besides Howard, were conceived naturally.”

I look around the table again. “By fornication?”

Rhonda nods, smiling with pride.

Anthony chuckles. “So that’s what they’re calling it nowadays.”

I shake my head. “But that’s illegal.”

A gaggle of chuckles rings out from the adult family members. My cheeks heat in embarrassment and fury. I don’t understand what they find funny. Glaring at them, suddenly all the pieces click into place.

“You’re Trads.”

“No, not Trads, just traditionalists,” Rhonda clarifies.

Anger rages inside me. Traditionalist is just the nice word for those among us who ignore our laws. The very laws put in place so we can survive.

“Do you not care anything for the future of the human race?” I ask.

“Excuse me?” Rhonda sounds offended at my accusation. Anthony puts his cutlery down and crosses his arms, a scowl on his face.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous what you have done is? Diseases can be transferred through natural conception. Not to mention the extra drain on society to feed a family of eight.” My face feels like it is on fire. “There’s barely enough to go around without people like you disobeying our laws.”

Howard stands, fists clenched. “You have no idea what you are talking about. If people like you would open your goddamned eyes, you’d see how much the rest of us are suffering.” He slams his fist against the table.

I jerk away when the vibration jostles the plate in front of me. My heart hammers in my chest.

“Sit down,” Rhonda tells Howard. He turns his glare from me to her. “Now,” she says in a tone of voice that brooks no argument.

I remove my shaking hands from the table and hide them in my lap. This family may claim to be “just traditionalists,” but it’s clear from Howard’s violent reaction that they’re not as placid and carefree as they would have me think.

All of a sudden, the lights go off and it’s pitch black. A squeal echoes from beside me and there are a couple of gasps from around the table, including my own.

“Stay calm, everyone,” Howard’s father says, his voice deep and commanding. “Your mum and I will find the lamps. It shouldn’t be dark for too long.”

Their feet sound against the cement floor, and a shiver runs down my spine. I’m terrified and angry, and suddenly even more aware of the fact that these people have no regard for the law. No wonder they don’t want me phoning for help.

Wondering if this might be my only chance for escape, I turn quietly in my seat. It’s dark and I have no idea where else I can go, but staying here isn’t an option. Once I’m sure I’m facing the right way, I stand and make for the nearest exit, which from memory is in front of me and down a short hall. I saw it when I came to the kitchen. Holding my hands in front of me, I collide briefly with a wall before feeling my way around the edge of it. A small sliver of light appears behind me then, making it easier to see my destination.

“Hey, where are you going?” Howard calls out.

I ignore him and fling the door open, running outside. In a stroke of luck, the power kicks back on the moment I reach the road. I take a quick look to the right, then to the left. When neither way looks familiar, I do a quick mental coin toss and choose left.

Thankful I have my running shoes on, I search for anywhere I might be able to contact MITI. Running seems to help get my emotions under control and calms me. At least until I make it to the end of the block and glance over my shoulder to see Howard following.

Picking up my pace, my heart beats wildly in my chest. I check every door or alcove I pass for somewhere to hide.

I turn left at the next side street but immediately regret my decision. A few houses up are two men who look similar to the ones who abducted me.

“Hey!” the bigger of the two shouts. “What are you doing out?”

With Howard not far behind me, I can’t go back the way I came. I take a quick survey of my surroundings and spot a single chance for escape. Halfway between the men and me, on the other side of the road, is an alley.

Confident I can outrun the men, I sprint as fast as my legs can carry me and duck into the darkness.

I only make it a few paces down the alley when a hand comes around my waist and pulls me through a doorway. I open my mouth to scream but swallow it when I realise my pursuers are the only ones close enough to hear me. Instead, I kick and wriggle, trying to flee from my new captor.

“Let me go!”

“Shh, it’s Howard. You need to be quiet.” He puts me down and closes the door. “It’s not safe.”

When I turn around he’s standing only centimetres behind me, his chest rising and falling like he’s out of breath. He bolts the door shut, then grabs my hand and guides me to the rear of the space, where he overturns a couple of empty crates and beckons me to sit. I look around, noting the crates of grain and other food stores scattered about.

I yank my hand out of his. “What are you doing, following me?”

“Saving your butt.” He huffs, then paces back and forth. “Did my mum not tell you how dangerous it is to be out at night around here?”

I feel heat creep up my neck, across my cheeks, and all the way to the tips of my ears. I’m glad there’s not much light in the room so he can’t see how red I am.

“She might have mentioned it,” I say, sitting down and keeping my eyes trained on him.

Footfalls sound outside the door, and Howard puts his finger to his lips, his face begging me not to make a sound. The noise fades a little, then gets loud again, and eventually disappears altogether.

Howard stares at me and cocks an eyebrow. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Well, if you knew it was dangerous, why on earth did you run away?”

“You scared me. So when the lights went out I took a chance.”

Howard wrings his hands for a second then says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Well, you did. And you could have told me it was you before you grabbed me. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I didn’t want you getting hurt. I mean, do you even know where you are?”

The expression on his face is a cross between
you’re an idiot
and
please don’t scare me like that again
. It makes me bite my tongue and shake my head.

“No, I don’t.”

“You’re in the far west ward. One of the worst slums in the city. Someone sees a pretty woman like you wandering around and nothing good would come of it.”

My body shakes at the thought of what could have happened to me yet again. I’ve heard stories about the slums, and I have to take a few deep breaths to calm myself.

“I was silly running away, I get it. I just couldn’t stay in your home any longer.”

Howard sighs. “Just because my parents raised us with traditionalist values doesn’t mean we are anything like the Trads. You accused us of being a drain on society, but you don’t even know us.”

“You’re right, I don’t know you. But you don’t know me either. If you did, you would understand why it’s hard for me to understand your way of life. It goes against every law, moral, and convention I’ve been taught. So I can’t be sorry for what I said, even if I’m sorry I ran out of the house.”

Howard takes a deep breath, then exhales long and slow. The expression on his face looks a bit like pity but with a dash of guilt mixed in. “Look, maybe I’ve judged you unfairly based on preconceived notions, but—”

A loud bang echoes outside. Howard glances at me with a panicked look on his face, and then pulls me off the crate onto the floor behind. I sit up, and turn to yell at him, but male voices outside keep my mouth closed. Instead I huddle closer to Howard as he puts his hand around my shoulders. He pulls me in until I’m tucked against him.

“Did you see where she went?” a man’s voice asks.

“Nah, she just vanished.” The voice of this one sounds young.

“Damn, the boss isn’t going to be pleased about this.”

The crunch of shoes against pavement indicates they are on the move again. The sounds trail off until they’re no longer audible. I sigh in relief, all the tension fleeing my body.

“Are you okay?’ Howard asks, rubbing my shoulder.

I glance up, only then noticing how little space is between us. His blue eyes have flecks of grey in them, and there’s a smattering of freckles covering his nose and cheeks. His warm breath tickles my cheek almost like a caress, and his jaw has the barest hint of a five o’clock shadow. He really is captivating.

“I’m fine,” I eventually say, the words a mere whisper.

The butterflies in my stomach return with a vengeance. Howard licks his lips as they turn up ever so slightly in a smile.

“Good.”

I can’t stop the sigh that slips past my own lips. Howard leans forward a little, then moves closer still until his mouth is pressed against mine. I don’t dare move. A zing of something, I’m not sure whether it’s pleasure or fear, shoots through me. His lips are soft and wet, and the sensation is unlike anything I’ve felt before. I can’t even decide if I want him to continue or stop. When he pulls away, though, a feeling of disappointment bubbles up inside me.

My first kiss.

Goose bumps cover me from head to toe, and unbidden, my fingers move to my lips. Glancing at Howard, he stares at me for a minute, then moves to sit further away.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

I shrug. “It’s okay.”

Howard frowns and then looks across the room.

Part of Matron training is learning not to form close relationships. It doesn’t mean it never happens. I’ve heard the odd story here and there from the other women, and I realise that’s probably what Gail was trying to tell me at breakfast the other day. But in all honesty, I can’t remember the last time I had real physical contact with anyone, above all with a man.

We sit in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. Tension rolls off Howard in waves.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Come on,” Howard whispers. “We need to get to the house before those guys return.”

He grabs my hand and leads me towards the door. I pull my hand out of his, taking a step back.

“Wait. You are planning on letting me go eventually, right?”

His eyes widen, and he looks ashamed and apologetic all at once. “Yeah, we are.”

I nod and take a deep breath. “Okay, then.”

He hesitates a moment and then turns to the door.

“Wait here a sec.” He unlocks the bolt and sticks his head out, looking in both directions. “All clear.”

He gestures for me to join him, then grabs my hand again and leads me out into the alley.

Chapter 3

“We’re home,” Howard calls out as we walk through the door.

His mum sticks her head around the corner. “Good, good. Nothing bad happened?”

“Nope. We had to hide out for a bit to avoid a couple of no good so-and-sos but they gave up pretty quick.”

Rhonda looks us up and down. When she stops midway, I remember I’m still holding Howard’s hand and yank mine free.

“As long as you’re okay,” she says, “that’s the main thing. Come, I have a couple of plates of food for you.”

We take seats on opposite sides of the table, and Rhonda slides some delicious looking chicken and vegetables in front of us. My stomach growls . . . loudly.

“Sorry. It smells so good.”

“Don’t be sorry. I take it as a compliment. You guys eat up. I’m going to go check to see that the rest of my munchkins are getting ready for bed like they’re supposed to be doing.”

Rhonda’s gone before I even have a chance to say thank you. I look at Howard, who is staring intently at the plate of food in front of him.

“Thank you.”

Howard looks up, a perplexed expression on his face. “What for?”

“For once again saving me from something awful.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiles and nods, but it seems halfhearted—almost like he’s mad and trying not to show it.

We eat in silence, and though I am used to eating this way at MITI, it usually leaves me feeling empty. Not so with Howard. Despite his odd mood, he’s companionable.

All too soon the food is gone. “I’m going to have a shower,” he says as he stands. “Mum should be out in a second. She will show you where you can sleep.”

He walks away, and I can’t help but watch the flex of muscles as he does. My gaze lingers until he is out of sight.

As promised, Rhonda reappears moments later. “Food to your liking?”

“Yes, it was delicious. The cooks at MITI could learn a thing or two from you. I don’t think I’ve ever had such yummy chicken.”

“Well, thank you. Good to know those skills my mum forced me to learn haven’t gone to waste. You ready for bed?”

I nod.

“Come on then, let’s get you settled.”

She leads me down the hall to the room I woke up in earlier. “This is Claire’s room, but she’s bunking with Margie tonight, so you shouldn’t have any interruptions.” She points down the hall. “That door at the end of the hallway is the bathroom and toilet. Make sure you use the lock, otherwise one of the little ones might barge in on you.”

“Okay.”

“There’s a nightie on the bed for you if you’d prefer to sleep in something more comfortable, and I grabbed your other clothes. They’ll be washed and mended by the morning.”

“Thanks.”

Rhonda walks down the hall and disappears around the corner, leaving me alone in a dimly lit hallway. I go to the room and shut the door behind me. The nightie Rhonda told me about is on the end of the bed. It’s pretty, but I’d feel too exposed wearing it. I fold it carefully and place it on the chair in the corner.

A yawn creeps up my throat, and I’m suddenly exhausted. The temptation to curl up and go to sleep is strong, but my body is telling me I need a trip to the bathroom first.

I head down the hall to the door at the end. It’s ajar, so I push the door open—and freeze. The bathroom is
not
empty.

Howard stands at the sink, naked from the waist up, brushing his teeth. Without clothing, his shoulders look twice as wide as before, and every curve and dip in his muscles is clearly visible. Down the middle of his back is what looks like a big, black T. I have this crazy inclination to trace it to see how it feels.

Howard clears his throat, and my gaze shoots up to find him watching me in the mirror. “Do you mind?”

He winks at me.

Oh crap!

“Sorry.” I pull the door shut. I’m mortified to have been caught staring. The butterflies in my stomach are stronger than ever, and my cheeks heat. I fan my face with my hands in an attempt to calm myself.

Before I can get everything under control, the door opens and a still-shirtless Howard walks out.

“All yours.”

“Uh-huh.”

I mentally slap myself for such an inept reply, but the view of him from the front is even better than the back. He has one of those washboard stomachs I’ve heard Gail talk about. I never understood what she meant, but now I can see how apt the description is. Once again, I find myself unable to stop staring.

“Good night, Bethanie,” Howard says, strolling down the hallway.

“Howard? What’s the T on your back?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

He stops and half turns towards me. “It’s a tattoo, and it isn’t a T, it’s a crucifix.”

“A crucifix?”

“Yeah, it’s the cross Christ was nailed to. It is a symbol of the weight I bear in the name of justice.”

“Huh. I’m sorry, I don’t really understand what you’re talking about. It’s nice, though.”

“Thanks,” he says, “but I better go to bed if I’m going to be up early to take you to the post office.”

“Night,” I call after him.

“Sweet dreams,” he calls back.

I smile. They might just be.

***

“Everyone getting ready for school?” I ask when I find only Rhonda about in the kitchen.

“Ah, no. The kids are all doing their morning chores. Their lessons start in about half an hour.”

“Lessons? Do they not go to school?” Every new piece of information I find out from these people only baffles me more.

“No, I homeschool all my children, as well as a couple more from the area.”

Homeschool?

Yet another thing I’ve never heard of. I always thought I knew everything there was to know about Oceania and its citizens. But barely twenty-four hours with the James family has proved that isn’t true.

“Morning.” Howard’s voice comes from behind me.

I turn around, and he’s a sight to behold—long-sleeve V-neck shirt, well-worn cargos, and rumpled hair that looks like he’s just crawled out of bed.

“Morning.”

“You ready to head to the post office?”

“Yep, ready when you are.” I turn to Rhonda. “Thank you for the hospitality.” She went above the call of duty during my stay, and I’m not sure I could ever repay her.

“You are welcome. Feel free to come again any time.”

I wonder whether she truly means it, or whether it is one of those throwaway lines.

Howard tilts his head towards the door and then walks outside. I can’t take my eyes off him as he strides away. A small bit of his tattoo shows above the collar of his shirt, and my fingers twitch with the desire to trace its outline. Moments later, he pokes his head back through the door.

“Well, you coming or not?”

I follow him out after saying a slightly embarrassing goodbye to his mother. We stop in front of a contraption that looks more like a motorbike with pedals than a traditional pushbike. Howard stands behind it, his hand caressing the seat as though it’s a pet rather than an inanimate object. But the small size of the seat means we would have to sit in extremely close proximity if we were both going to ride it.

Freaked-out doesn’t even begin to explain how I feel about that. There is no way I can sit so close to him and touch him the way I would have to just to stay on.

“Are you all right?”

“Would it be okay if we walk?”

“It’s going to take twice as long.” Though he sounds miffed about it, the hint of a grin on his face makes me think otherwise.

I shrug in response, and Howard starts walking, pushing the bike along.

“Why are you taking the bike if we are walking?”

“Just in case.” He keeps walking without looking back.

We travel in companionable silence for a while. I sneak glances at him when I think he won’t notice. The way his muscles flex as he moves reminds me of how he looked as he brushed his teeth last night.

Even the memory of those few seconds brings a flush to my cheeks. I turn away, hoping to conceal the evidence of my less-than-polite thoughts.

I give all of my attention to the surrounding area. The buildings are run down, showing every bit of their two-hundred-year age. I frown because maintenance crews are supposed to prevent anything from growing this decrepit, but it’s as if they’ve never come around here at all.

After a few blocks, the sheer amount of work that needs to done reminds me of something else.

“So your mum said you were still at work when I woke up yesterday. What is it you do?”

“I currently work in power production, but I’m hoping to find some other work soon. The shift work at the power plant is kind of killing me. I’m so tired all the time.” As if in proof, he finishes his sentence with a yawn.

On closer inspection, I can clearly see the evidence of his exhaustion. His blue eyes have large black circles underneath. His shoulders hunch over, and his stride is long and lazy.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “If you are anxious to return home to get more sleep, we can ride.”

“No, it’s fine. It seems like no amount of sleep at the moment helps. Besides, I’d much rather be in the company of a pretty woman than sleeping.”

My ears flame in embarrassment. No one has ever called me pretty before.
No one comments on my appearance, period.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” We walk for a few more paces before he speaks again. “So what is it that you do, Bethanie?”

“Did your mother not tell you who I am?” I’d assumed Rhonda would have, despite her assurances otherwise.

“Not exactly. She told us you were an important person and we were to be kind.”

“Oh.”

Deciding that it’s easier to be upfront, I add, “Well . . . in six weeks when Matron Ruby Angelo steps down, I will be sworn in as the new Matron.”

“Huh. Really?”

His tone makes the words sound like criticism, and in an instant, my mood shifts. “Yes, really. Why?”

“Oh, no reason. I’m sure you’ll do fine. Can’t be any worse than the previous two.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” I ask in disbelief. “The last two Matrons were amazing women with outstanding leadership skills.”

“If you say so.” His response is apathetic at best.

“I do say so.” My words contain more of growl than I’d intended. “What qualifies you to say any different?”

“Look around ya, darlin’. This qualifies me,” he says, gesturing grandly at the area surrounding us.

His words bring me to a mental stop. It’s impossible not to see where he’s coming from, given the horrible conditions.

Looking at our surroundings, I notice we’ve reached a more populated area. The few people we pass stare at me in an almost evil manner. Whether it’s because they recognise me or for another reason I can’t be certain, but their looks make me feel very uneasy. I move a little closer to Howard, hoping the proximity to him will help me feel safer. He frowns.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Sorry. I’m feeling a little exposed. People are staring at me weird.”

“We’re almost there.” He doesn’t say that people aren’t staring at me.

We walk the remaining way in silence. When the post office finally comes into view, I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Okay, here you are,” Howard says when we stop outside the door.

“Thank you.” An unfamiliar urge bubbles up inside me, making me want to hug him, but I cross my arms over my chest to stop myself. “I guess I better go inside.”

I rock back and forth on my feet but don’t actually move.

“I can wait to make sure you’re okay, if you’d like,” he says, as if sensing my hesitance.

My mouth turns up at the corners. “Are you sure? I don’t want to keep you from anything.”

“I’ll be fine. Go and make your call.”

Inside, I ask the clerk behind the desk where the public phone is. He points me to the rear of the store.

Picking up the receiver, I make a collect call to the institute.

A receptionist answers. “Matron in Training Institute. How may I direct your call?”

“Headmistress Carpenter, please.”

“May I say who’s speaking?”

“Bethanie Greene.”

The sharp intake of breath from the other end answers at least one question for me.

The next thing I hear, though, is Headmistress’ angry voice. No pleasantries, no propriety, just straight to it.

“Where are you?”

I pause for a minute trying to think why my disappearance would anger her. When nothing immediately comes to mind, I reply, “I don’t exactly know.”

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?” She sounds furious, like she doesn’t even care if I’m okay.

“I’m in a post office somewhere on the outskirts,” I say, trying to placate her. “But that’s all I know for sure.”